The Rev. Joseph Farnes
All Saints, Boise
Proper 18C
Paul’s letter to Philemon could have been the strongest force for the abolition of slavery in Christianity in the ancient world if Paul hadn’t been so soft about it. In his letter, his rhetoric is gentle, pastoral, but imagine if Paul had been forcibly direct and said in no uncertain terms that slavery was impermissible with Christianity!
The context of the letter is that Philemon owned another human being, an enslaved person named Onesimus. For whatever reason, Onesimus ran away from Philemon. We do not know why – whether it was because of how he was treated, or because being enslaved by even a “kind” person is still degrading and dehumanizing. But it was a strong enough desire for freedom that Onesimus risked execution in the Roman Empire. The hierarchical Roman Empire had the death penalty for any person who ran away from being enslaved; so running away was an incredible risk.
And Onesimus found himself in the orbit of Paul. Paul had been imprisoned, and Onesimus was a comfort and a support to him. Onesimus was caring for someone imprisoned, which Jesus himself had commanded us to do. And now Paul is sending Onesimus back with a soft message with heavy implications.
Paul tells Philemon to accept Onesimus back as a brother in Christ. Paul adds layer upon layer to it: Onesimus was there to help Paul when Philemon was not there; Philemon himself owes much to Paul; Paul says that he is confident that Philemon will do the right thing. And so much depends upon that line: “Perhaps this is the reason he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother– especially to me but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord.”
Paul is referring to Onesimus as a beloved brother, both in our human way of thinking and also in our Christian way of thinking. We are beloved children of a loving God. Paul’s Christian ethics at this point are heavy on implication and inference, pushing us to weigh it out in our hearts. How do we treat someone we call our sibling in Christ? How are Christians called to treat others?
And, unfortunately, neither Paul nor other Christians in the early centuries sat and asked about whether Christianity meant the abolition of slavery. Paul didn’t say that Philemon had no right to own another human being. Paul didn’t say that Christians should work to end the abominable practice of enslaving others. Paul’s letter to Philemon was pastoral, appealing to Philemon’s heart, appealing to the logic of his conscience.
And because of that softness, defenders of slavery insisted that Paul didn’t see anything wrong with slavery, that at best this was a special case. The defenders of slavery insisted that slavery was acceptable, that it was a necessary social institution, and they believed that if someone was baptized, it did not mean they were freed from slavery. During the Civil War, the bishops of the Episcopal Church in the Confederacy made a new catechism particularly for enslaved people. It is much longer than the catechism for others – the catechism for the enslaved repeats again and again that the enslaved person is to be obedient in all things because God is watching and will punish them for the slightest infraction, and that the enslaved person is to love their master at all times. It is an abominable text, and part of it was made possible because Paul did not unequivocally condemn slavery itself.
I wish we could go back and tell Paul what gift he could give to countless people like Onesimus and Philemon by being stronger with his language! Countless people would have been freed from slavery or never enslaved to begin with! Countless people would have learned to love their sibling in Christ instead of hardening their hearts with contempt for someone they deemed lesser and lower by keeping them in slavery!
The gentle, pastoral word of Paul worked on Philemon, tradition tells us. Tradition says that Onesimus, once an enslaved person, may have become the bishop of the city of Ephesus, so it seems that Onesimus was freed.
But in another way, the gentle, pastoral word of Paul did not work for countless others. It was too indirect to convince others that slavery was incompatible with the Gospel, and it was too soft to rebuke those who enslaved others.
That is the tension we face: will the gentle, pastoral word be sufficient to change our hearts, or will the times call for being challenged or even rebuked? If someone speaks softly to our hearts, will we listen to its seriousness or will we dismiss it because it is just a suggestion? If someone speaks with authority, will we close our hearts off because what was said made us angry, and we’d rather stick with what we want to believe rather than change?
Human beings are not the coldly rational people of ancient philosophy. Human beings have far more complex personalities, with emotions and beliefs that are incredibly powerful. Social science has proven time and again that when we are presented with information that conflicts with something we believe, we will double-down on our belief because we do not like change. We double-down on what we want to be true, what we want to do, what we want to believe rather than change.
If someone tells us softly that we might consider doing something else, we’ll ignore it. If someone tells us strongly that we need to change, we’ll react: how dare they, I’m not wrong, they’re wrong.
And so then we struggle. How do we discern what is good, how do we discern what is helpful, how do we discern what will get us closer to the will of God? Will a soft word do the trick to guide our hearts in the right direction? Do we need something more forceful to jostle us out of our place? What is it that will benefit us, and benefit future generations?
These are questions that we need to reflect upon. In previous generations, for example, a “Father Knows Best” model meant that the person in authority was given a nearly unquestioning obedience; in other generations, it was “Question Authority” because we all have a perspective that comes into the equation. And that means different kinds of leadership models. I heard a story that my predecessor in the 90s was fond of the way life was in the military: here’s a note with your marching orders, and this is what I expect you to do. Some people like that model. It requires less figuring stuff out, it feels more orderly. Others bristle at being told what to do in any way, shape, or form. And then there are other models of leadership, too. Some are leaders who are like salespeople, who can give the fun and exciting vision and persuade anyone to do anything. Some leaders expect people to do the hard work of discernment and really wrestle with the questions, treating people as equals rather than subordinates.
A series of questions for you and all of us to chew on, to noodle on, to contemplate:
What kind of leadership do you listen to more?
How do we discern who and what and how we listen?
If Paul were writing a letter to us today, what would he say? And would he say it softly like he did to Philemon … and would we listen? Would he say it sharply like he did in other letters … and would we listen? What do we need to hear now, for the sake of the times we live in? Amen.